Anniversary Waltz
by Melchy
Summary: On the date of what would have been her tenth wedding anniversary with her husband, Carolyn Muir makes a startling discovery about Captain Daniel Gregg.


_Rating: PG _

_These characters do not belong to me but do let me take them out once in a while and then put them back. They belong to 20th Century Fox._

_Many thanks to Susan G. and Denise G. For their input and editing while I was writing this story!_

Anniversary Waltz 

Melchy

March 20, 1970

The sun seemed to have taken the day off – perhaps intimidated by the grayness of the fog that persisted in reigning. The wind was harsh and cold, even for New England, especially for the March morning, which only yesterday had held the promise of an early spring.

Carolyn Muir drew her bathrobe closer and leaned into the ship's wheel for more shelter from the elements. The air felt gray as it whipped through her hair and ravished her slim body. The thought of going back inside, while being practical, was something she rebelled against. She needed to be out here with her thoughts. Somehow it seemed things could be put in perspective much easier out here with the sea at hand and the firmness of the wheel against her.

"Madam, you are hardly dressed for this kind of weather." The voice of Captain Gregg came from behind her. "You could catch your death of cold, standing outside in your night things."

"I know," she said evenly. "But I just needed to think about a few things, and felt this was the best place to put them in perspective." Her voice paused for a moment, then continued. "I can see why you loved the sea so much Captain Gregg. It has such a calming effect."

As the seaman walked closer to the woman, he was about to make a remark about how she had obviously never ridden through a tropical storm, but decided against it, as he noted the look on her face. It was not a sad look, but pensive.

"Is something amiss my dear?" he asked, not caring if he sounded concerned. He knew he was not good at telling how he felt about her, but he was resolved to try. He had never been good at verbally communicating affection. Words always came much easier when written down or demonstrated.

"I don't wish to bother you with my petty thoughts." She turned to face him. "I'm just being your typical, silly female today."

"You are definitely not _typical_ or _silly,_" he reassured her. "But most _definitely_ female!"

That statement brought a smile to her face, a bright spot on the cloudy day.

"Thank-you," she said so quietly he had to lean in to hear her words.

His hand brushed against hers, and he felt the sparks that the contact made. Drawing back, he wondered if she had noticed, but the look on her face did not give anything away. He had not been as careful lately in her not knowing that he did indeed have the ability of physical touch. Maybe it was because he felt more comfortable in her presence or he felt that she was more comfortable in his. In the beginning, it had just been the right thing to do . . . to pretend. Actually, he had never told her he couldn't be touched, and the one time she had tried, he had willed himself to feel like nothing. Now, knowing that he loved her more than the life he had lived, and was sure she felt the same, it was easier to not guard against touch.

"What was that?" she asked, pulling her robe even closer. "It felt like an electric spark."

Ah, so she had noticed it! This could be a very good sign!

"Really Mrs. Muir, you do need to go inside," he insisted, all practicality returning. "Your mood becomes so crabby when you are ill, and I for one would not like to go through that again."

"Point proven, Captain. I guess it is time to get on with the day, after all it is just another day!"

**************************************

Carolyn told herself that several times during the day. Even though she felt silly about the whole matter, in point of fact, it was still bothering her. After all, today would have been her tenth anniversary. 

"Ten years isn't very long in the scheme of things. It's a mere period of time." When she and Robert were first married, they had talked about what they had hoped to accomplish in their first ten years of marriage. None of those things had come to pass, but that didn't really matter. It was just the thought she was having trouble getting past.

She didn't miss Robert, she pondered. At first she had missed him so much, it hurt to say his name. She saw him everywhere in everything and did not know if she could go on and live a normal life. But soon things started to get faint – the way he smelled of aftershave and soap, the feel of him against her as they lay in bed, his touch on her arm, the ways he'd make her laugh when he wanted his own way, the little boy that opened up when he played with Candy. It was faint, so faint now, she could barely remember it.

She was used to being alone now and making her own decisions. It could be pleasant making your own schedules, going to bed when you wanted, going on trips because you felt like it, wearing green because YOU like the way it brought out the color of your eyes, but sometimes she missed the thought of him. Maybe that was all she had ever had of him, just the thought. From the first moment she had laid eyes on him, she knew that this man would change her life.

But had it been for the best? A conversation she had with a friend shortly after her marriage came back to her. "He's a good man Carolyn, but he's not worthy of you. He expects you to be something he can show off, and impress people with, but does he really care about you and what you want?"

Her answer had been simple - "He is what I want." Had she been gullible or naive or just stupid? Had her life been any better because of Robert Muir? She looked at the pictures of her children, one on each side of her typewriter and for the second time that day, burst into a smile. Nothing could be better in her life than her children. She would do anything for them. They were her life.

"But is that enough?" she voiced her question out loud. Of course it was enough, what else did she want from life? Still the question went around and around in her mind like a long-playing record; "What's wrong with wanting a man to love and be loved in return?"

Last month she had received a visitor to Gull Cottage that she hadn't told anyone about, especially not the Captain. Paul Marshall, who had been a co-worker of Robert's, had come to see her with a small box and an apology.

"I didn't know him well, Mrs. Muir but we were friends. We had been working on the Graybel case together. I was with him in the car when it was hit. He had made the remark to me shortly before the crash that he 'needed to call his wife when we reached the hotel to let her know where he was.' I remember being surprised because I had been working fairly closely with him for six months and didn't know he was married. I mentioned that to him and he said that his marriage wasn't something he liked to flaunt, except when it came in handy. Then he pulled out this box and showed me the most beautiful diamond and emerald ring I'd ever seen. He said he was giving it to his wife for their anniversary because he hadn't gotten her an engagement ring when they were married. Times had been hard then, but now he could afford it and he would show her parents that he was good enough for their daughter. I guess the car must have been hit then, because the ring was found on me when I got to the hospital. It was just assumed it was mine, I guess. I was in the hospital for several months before I even knew who I was, so I wasn't much help. I found it when I was cleaning out my stuff from my parent's house last year. I'm afraid it took me that long to track you down. So, here it is, it's yours."

He had handed her the box with trembling hands. She had gasped when she saw the ring inside. It was the most exquisite setting she had ever seen. Choking back the anger she felt rearing, she had smiled at Paul Marshall. She was truly touched by the sincerity of this stranger and she had thanked him for his sentiment. She knew she should feel something for the gift from Robert, but all she felt was an emptiness. "Thank-you Mr. Marshall," she had smiled. "I appreciate you taking your time to bring this to me."

And he left – satisfied with his good deed.

Opening the bureau drawer where she had hidden it, she retrieved the box from under a pile of sweaters and pulled it open. There the ring sat in its satin box, looking so brilliant and lovely. Even this gift that should have been a symbol of love had been bought with the intent of showing off.

Shortly after receiving it, she had taken it to Boston for an appraisal. She had been stunned to find out that it was worth two-thousand dollars. What they could have done with that kind of money then! What she could do with that kind of money now! But here it sat in its box.

Firmly, she snapped the box shut. She noticed her hand was trembling as the box fell from her grasp and hit the floor. Before she could bend down to retrieve it, the box was gently placed in her hands.

"I believe you dropped something," came the reply from the handsome Captain as he suddenly appeared before her. "My Dear, what's the matter?" His tone was touched with concern and worry.

"I wish I could put my finger on it," she answered. "I just can't piece it out in my mind."

For some unknown reason, she opened the box and held it out for him to take. He gave a long low whistle, looking at the ring sparkle in the light.

"Wherever did you acquire this?"

"A co-worker of Robert's brought it to me a few weeks ago. Robert had bought it for me for our sixth anniversary, but that was the one we never had."

The Captain struggled to keep his jealousy in check. It did not make any sense to be envious of a dead man just because he had had something that, he, the Captain, could never have. "He had great taste. It is a beautiful expression of love."

"No," she shook her head. "Love had nothing to do with it. Mr. Marshall said that when Bobby showed him the ring, he told him it would "prove something" to my parents."

Thunder ripped the air and then stopped as quickly as it began.

"But why?" The Captain heard himself say, knowing at once he shouldn't have. Since he had, he continued. "I mean, he had the right to claim the most wonderful woman on earth as his and he was only interested in what her parents might think? Didn't he realize what a blessed man he was?" The man shook his head, like he did not understand this way of thinking.

"Captain?" Her voice was low and somewhat shaken. "Do you . . . ?" But she didn't finish.

"What I would give to be able to present you with such a token of my feelings!" He kept going on. "If only I could show you how I truly feel!"

"You do, Captain, every day. Every single day since I've been here, you tell me; in your actions and in your words. Sometimes I can't see it, because I'm not paying attention or I'm too full of my own self. But I realized that everything you do, in a way, tells me how you feel. I only hope I do the same."

"Oh my dear . . ." he said.

The words slid across her ear like silk and she bathed in the luxury of them. The Captain handed the box back to her, their fingers barely touching in the exchange.

"Pardon me for saying so, Madam, but if his intent in giving you this ring was merely to show off to the world that he could do so, then he was a fool."

Her heart made a double flip and she turned toward the bureau to give herself a moment to wallow in the joy she felt.

"Do you miss him?" It was a question he had wondered about for some time. Even now he was reluctant to ask, yet it was a question that demanded of its own right to be voiced. His voice sounded hollow and the words were somehow dragged out of him.

"No, I really don't. I used to. I missed him so badly I couldn't think. I would close my eyes and pretend that he would walk into the room at any minute and everything would be fine." She turned back toward the spectre and gave him a weak smile. "It took a while for me to realize that maybe 'fine' was not good enough. I wanted the best."

"And do you think you will ever find it?"

"I think I already have."

His eyes held hers in a steady embrace. Nothing else existed in that space of time, except each other. The sound of a car going by the house broke the spell.

"Today is – was – our anniversary. It would have been our tenth. It was a day I had to do some thinking and put things in their proper place. I've done that and I know where I stand. And I thank you for that, Captain Gregg."

"I, Madam?" His face was puzzled.

"Yes, you, Daniel Gregg. You, in your blustering, aggravating, overbearing manner."

"Thank-you for the compliment," he said gruffly, but his eyes were calm.

Carolyn walked over toward him, stopping inches from him.

"I wouldn't trade you for all the Roberts in the world."

_Joy._

That was the word, the substance, that was now coursing through his veins. It used to be blood, replaced with ectoplasm, but now it was joy, pure and unadulterated. He had always made sure that he never mentioned the late Mr. Muir unless someone else mentioned him first. It was very easy to pretend the man had never existed and usually that was the course that Captain Gregg took. Very early on, he had felt that Carolyn and the children and, yes, even Martha and that annoying little dog were his family. The family he had always wanted even if he could not admit it. And now, this.

Utter rapture was not even the right word to describe how he felt. Here Carolyn Muir was, standing in front of him, telling him that she wanted him above all else! Oh how he wanted her, not just physically, but in every way! How he would love to claim her as his, the whole family for that matter. They would be_ his_ family, to love and care for and watch over. He did that now in his quiet way, but imagine having the right to do that, so that the whole world could know.

"But you don't need a Daniel Gregg," his voice sounded. "You need a Robert, someone who can really care for you and love you the way you deserve. I can't be the man you need."

"You are the man I need." Her tone was insistent. "Exactly the way you are. I don't care about the fact that, well, you aren't exactly, um . . ."

_"Alive._ The word Madam, is _alive."_

She nodded. "I don't care about that. I'm happy with the way things are, as long as you are here with me."

Again his joy was so complete, he almost could not say what he felt he should. She would take him just the way he was, not even a flesh and blood man, but just as the spirit he was.

"There's one thing I feel that I should really tell you. I did not tell you at first because I did not think it to be necessary, but now I think you should know."

"What is it?" Her eyes narrowed. She should have known there would be something. There was always something, some drawback or obstacle. Why did love have such a habit of slapping her in the face?

For an answer, he reached out his hand and firmly grasped hers in his own. The feel of his hand, strong and firm around hers, was unexpected, but so wonderful!

"How . . . why . . . how . . . ?" She tried to begin. "How are you doing this?" she finally managed to get out.

His grip strengthened on her hand, pulling her closer to him. The touch of his hand sent sparks through her and a burning desire to be even closer. It was a feeling she had thought long dead.

"I'm afraid, Madam, that I have mis-held some information from you. I was not trying to deceive you, I just felt that if you knew, you might feel uncomfortable." His fingers were gently interlacing with hers, holding them so firmly, but like a caress.

"But you told me you were an illusion!" she declared hotly.

"And I indeed am an illusion . . ." And he disappeared from her sight.

"You come back here!" she almost shouted. He wasn't going to get out of this so easily! Too often he had the habit of dematerializing just when she needed him most to stay.

"Of course, my dear," he said, appearing in front of her once more. "I just wanted to point out that I am merely a spirit, just as I said I was."

"But I tried to touch you!" she was insistent. "I remember it as plain as if it were just yesterday. I tried to touch your arm and I didn't feel anything." Her face was one big question. She felt so cold, now that he was no longer holding her hands.

"You were so cocky," he laughed. "You thought you were going to prove something. I just wasn't sure who you were trying to prove it to."

"You knew I tried to touch you? But how could you? You can't read my thoughts, can you?"

"No, not exactly. At that time I didn't know you very well, but I knew enough about you to know you would try. So, I made sure that you did not feel anything."

The look on Carolyn's face was neither laughter nor tears, perplexed might be the word, but that did not seem to fit either.

"But why?"

"I wanted you to feel safe and comfortable here and maybe if you knew that I could indeed reach out and touch you, you would feel neither. You were, after all, attracted to me from the beginning." His mouth curved in an evil grin.

"Don't flatter yourself," she retorted. "You aren't _that _handsome you know!"

"I believe _magnificent _was the word you used." The smile grew wider.

"You are impossible, Captain Gregg!" She flung the words toward him but she was smiling now.

"You do have a lovely smile," he whispered, once more taking her hands in his.

"I need to know one more thing," she directed to him. His thumbs were caressing the back of her hands; it was getting hard for her to think clearly. If his touch did this to her, then what . . . ?? The thought was pushed aside, but not too far away.

"Anything, my dear."

"The song . . . the uh . . . poem, I mean. It was so beautiful. But if you can, then it's not true."

"It is true," his voice insisted. "It is true because even though I may have the ability, I'm still not alive and therefore really have no right or claim. I can indeed touch your hand," and his grasp tightened. "I can draw your arm in mine," and he pulled her close. "But not as a human being, not as a man . . ."

"Shh," she quieted him. "What about the next part, is it true too?" She knew she might be playing with fire. But she really did not care.

_"My lips cannot touch yours."_ His voice was suddenly husky with feeling. His lips touched hers so lightly she almost thought she imagined it.

Carolyn wasn't sure what her reaction was, but it must have been good, because she felt herself being drawn closer to him. When his lips claimed hers, it was definitely not her imagination. Had it been so long since she had been kissed that one kiss could make her feel the way she was feeling now? She didn't want to analyze it. She just didn't want this moment to end.

The Captain's arms tightened around her and the kiss deepened. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him toward her. Suddenly she pulled away, standing several feet back from him.

"I'm mad at you, remember? I still can't believe that even after all this time, you, you . . . "

The seaman said nothing, but the look on his face spoke volumes. Finally he spoke.

"If you do not understand after I've explained the reason, then there is nothing more to say."

"There is plenty to say. Don't give me that 'I was protecting you' speech. I don't need to be protected. I can take care of myself."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the ring of the telephone cut him off short.

"Mrs. Muir?" Martha called up the steps. "The phone's for you."

"Thank-you, Martha." She opened the door and yelled down the steps. Walking over to the phone with far more stamina then she felt, she lifted the receiver, waiting until Martha had hung up her end.

"Hello?"

"Hello, little girl." Her father's voice was warm and cheery on the other end. "I thought I'd give you a call and see how my girl is doing."

"Fine, thank-you, Dad, I'm doing just fine." She willed her voice to remain steady. "How are you and mother?"

"We're fine, but I didn't call to talk about us today. We were a little worried about you."

"That's sweet, but really, I'm fine, couldn't be better. I'm just trying to get a story done, a typical day for me."

"Are you sure? You sound a little strained, honey." Her father's voice was full of concern.

"Honestly, Daddy," she relapsed into her childhood phrase. Her eyes caught those of the Captain who was still standing by the desk. She couldn't stand it anymore, she might start to cry at any minute and that just wouldn't do. Quickly, she turned her gaze toward the clock over the fireplace mantle. Why didn't the Captain just go away? He was good at it, when she didn't want him to.

"It's all right if you're not fine, Lynnie." Her father recalled his pet name for her. "I know I don't say a lot about it, but losing someone you love is very hard, especially on special days."

Carolyn sighed, trying to keep the tears at bay. She would not cry in front of Captain Gregg. She would not; nor for her father to hear. If only she could tell her father that it wasn't that she missed Robert, but that just when she thought life was perfect it had thrown her a curve.

"I love you very much, Daddy. I don't think I've ever told you how much I appreciate everything you and Mother have done for me. I'll try to send off a long letter soon. Kiss Mother for me and thanks for calling. It was nice hearing your voice."

Slowly she hung up the phone, turning around even more slowly. The Captain was still there, staring at her, but silent.

"Excuse me, Captain Gregg." She walked past him and out the door.

"Martha?" She called for the housekeeper as she walked into the kitchen. A plate of cookies on the table reminded her that she hadn't had any breakfast or lunch and was a little hungry.

"Out by the washer," Martha answered her. "Just thought I'd get another load done."

Carolyn walked over toward Martha and leaned against the dryer. For a few minutes neither of them said anything, then Martha broke the silence.

"Mrs. Muir, I thought if you didn't mind, I'd go and pick up the kids at school and maybe take them to a movie and, and out for some dinner."

"That's very nice of you, Martha, but you don't have to."

"Oh, I haven't really spent anytime with them lately and it would give you a little free time."

_She must have talked to my father when she answered the phone,_ Carolyn thought. "Well, thank-you, Martha, I'm sure they will love that."

"I'll be leaving here in a while, is there anything I could do before I go? I've fixed you some dinner, all you have to do is put it in the oven."

Carolyn hugged the older woman. "What would I do without you, Martha? I'm going to go for a walk, right after I make myself a sandwich. Seems I forgot to eat today."

"I did call you once, but you didn't answer. I figured you must be lost in your work and would come down when you were ready."

A few minutes later with sandwich in hand, Carolyn headed down toward the beach. The day still held the grey texture of the morning, a cold miserable day that would be best spent indoors curled up by the fireplace with a good book.

The gulls flying overhead seemed to be telling her as much with their wild, mournful cries – "Go back inside, human."

"Not today, Mr. Gull. I need to share your gloomy sea today."

Carolyn sat down in a jutting rock and took a bite of her sandwich. It was roast beef, very tender and flavorful, but suddenly she didn't feel like eating. After taking a few more dutiful bites, she tore what remained in pieces and threw it up in the air for the gulls to catch. They flew in and out of their circle like a dance, an amazing sight that held her attention for several minutes.

While she sat, she shed a few tears, with only the gulls and the sea to hear her. Robert had hated it when she cried. It wasn't like the Captain who hated it, because he could not stand to see a woman hurt, but a mean hatred. More than once Robert had told her to _'__stop acting like a baby and be a woman' _when something affected her enough to bring the tears. Why had that thought rushed up above the others in her head?

Deliberately, she tried to conjure up Robert's face in her thoughts and though the image came it wasn't clear. His hair had been dark blonde, almost brown, and his eyes were just like Jonathan's. His face was well-formed and would have looked good splashed across the newspapers and on television. He had been hoping to pursue a career in politics. When she had first met him, it had been his smile that drew her to him. It hadn't taken long for her to realize that the smile wasn't for her alone. It was for anyone that could elevate him to the top. Had she been a stepping stone or a pebble in his shoe?

Slowly her mind filtered through all these thoughts, coming full circle to the Captain. She loved Daniel Gregg, she knew she did. The realization had hit her sometime ago but admitting it had been hard. But why did she love him? One thought kept popping up its ugly head and she kept pushing it down, not wanting to think about it. It refused to be put down any longer.

Did she love him because he was safe? What was hard about loving a man that you knew was only an illusion? What was hard about loving a man that did not need a commitment, a man you couldn't marry, a man you couldn't make love to? Was she afraid of intimacy with a man? 

Maybe she had become callous where men were concerned. No, she shook her head, that was ridiculous. She enjoyed dating, but true, she never allowed it to go past one date, or perhaps two. Sometimes she would allow a kiss at the front door or let the man hold her hand. Surely she wasn't afraid of becoming more involved, of feeling like a woman, of love?

But companionship was very different from love. That's what she enjoyed with these men, companionship. Love was something she no longer needed. Love involved deep caring and only wanting to be with that one person forever. The storms could ravage the ship but never ever sink it. And that type of love included, well, to be frank, sex. And that was something she had told herself time and again; she no longer cared about or needed. Sex was really such a small part of life and she didn't see the use of it anymore. Sure, it was nice to feel like a woman and be loved like a woman but . . . After all, she was a responsible woman with a career and two children and things like that were in her past. So why did the thought of being held in the Captain's arms keep coming back to her? And why, if that was true, had she thought about it before it had happened? It was a thought that hadn't occurred just once, but several times in the two years they had shared living space at Gull Cottage.

As smug as he had been about it, the fact was she _had _said he was magnificent, and still thought so. Even though she had told herself many times that she didn't need any complications or did not want to delve into the secrets buried in Daniel Gregg's eyes, she knew she was fooling herself. At first, yes, it had been an infatuation, but now it was real. It was so real. It made her crazy. And lately she had gotten the distinct impression that he felt the same way. Like the poem; thoughts that were so beautiful she couldn't believe he had written it for her. No one ever had written anything for her filled with so much love and emotion. And then today he had touched her hand and held her close and put his lips on hers. And that was why she was mad at him. But was it really because he had lied to her? Or was it another deeper meaning, was it because he was no longer safe?

One thing she could not abide was being lied to. Life with Robert had turned out to be one big lie, and many of his had been said with that same excuse._ 'I did it for your own good.' _Picking up a handful of cold sand, she let it sift through her fingers, watching the small grains hit the ground. He would never apologize. She knew that. It wasn't in his nature. He would see nothing to apologize for, he had done what he did because he did believe it to be for the best. And that was one of the reasons she loved him, she thought as she smiled to herself. And he was worth it.

Wiping her hands on her pants, she got up from the rock and stretched. Her legs had become numb from hanging over the edge for so long. Feeling a little like she was drunk, she made her way back to the house.

*****************************

"Captain Gregg?" She waited, but neither saw nor heard him. "Captain Gregg, we need to talk."

Making her way up the steps, she stopped at the attic door, determined to throw it open, but stopped and knocked instead.

"Come in, Madam." His voice was noncommital.

He was sitting in his chair, his eyes turned toward the window, overlooking the spot where his Monkey-Puzzle tree had stood.

"Captain, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for the way I acted, and what I said to you. I know that you only had my best interests at heart and it wasn't fair for me to act like a spoiled child. Can you forgive me?"

Daniel Gregg did not answer her, or even acknowledge that she was there and had spoken. Instead he walked over to the window, his eyes searching the glimpse of the sea he could see from where he was. He had spent the last bit of time, pacing the length of the widow's-walk trying to sort out the tangle in his mind. At first he had yelled and blustered to the wind about women and how female they were.

"I told her the truth, but that didn't matter. She did not care. Instead she became angry because I had not told her sooner. I will not apologize. I did nothing wrong. I did what had to be done. It was not like I had murdered someone, or told her I was someone else. What if I had told her that first night that I had the ability of touch? Would she have stayed? I did what I did, and that's all there was to it."

These thoughts went around in his mind for sometime, and he took comfort in the fact that he was indeed right and once again would be proven to be so. But then his mind started on a new line of reasoning he wasn't sure he liked.

He had been alone in this house, and it was of his own choosing, for several years. Successfully having scared everyone off, he had been slightly taken aback at the audacity of the young woman who had taken up residence in his home. Nothing had fazed her, not the laughter, not the bumbling of that insipid Claymore, not the problems with moving in, not even the thunder and lightning with the full effect of no electricity. Absolutely nothing had affected her and her crew. 

Not even when he had made himself visible to her had she balked. She _had_ looked a little green perhaps, but had stood firm. If he hadn't been so adamant about her staying there, she never would have left in the first place. It hadn't taken long for him to realize that this one had a mind of her own and to forbid or try to suppress any of her notions only meant she would do it more.

It had taken only a handful of time to see that she was beautiful and only a few more seconds to determine that she had fire and spirit. By the end of that first very long day, he knew beyond all things that she was the one he had spent his life looking for. And he had spent the last two years trying to ignore it. And now today!

A thought came to his mind that made him stop his pacing, leaving him with a feeling stranger than when he realized he was dead. Did he love her because she was unreachable? He could gaze at her beauty and think wishful thoughts knowing that nothing could come of it. True, she was a beautiful vivacious woman, but she was the only woman in his world. A woman who he didn't have to worry about marriage or family or getting close to. Had he set up this barrier deliberately to block any form of intimate contact? He knew in this day and age that would be sex. But in his world, intimacy was an entirely different concept that could involve the simple act of holding hands in public or walking with your hand on the small of her back, or calling her by her first name. He had never been one for following rules and knew that, in social circles, women had breathed his name along with words such as _cad_ and _scoundrel_, and he had been proud of that. He had told himself that not telling Carolyn Muir about his ability for physical touch would assure that he not act like the proverbial 'sailor on shore leave.' And it would make her feel comfortable in the house. He knew she was a widow, and at first had wondered if she still grieved for her husband.

For several minutes he stared out into nothingness, trying to think honestly about this new revelation. Had he not told her the truth because it would protect _him_ and not _her? _Was it because it would keep him from becoming emotionally attached, or help to keep him from being wantonly aroused by the sight of a beautiful woman? Perhaps all his reasoning had merely been for his own self and really had nothing to do with her! He was afraid of what kind of commitment that could bring about, what kind of relationship that could occur, what kind of feeling could stir even in the heart and being of an illusion. Love was a complicated game and while he had done well at being a man, love was far beyond his comprehension. He thought he had found it once with Vanessa, and that had been yanked out from under him like a rug. Did he truly love Carolyn or was it just part of his way of reassuring himself that even though he was now no longer flesh and blood, he was indeed still a man?

He could see her in his mind now and he studied the image carefully. She was indeed lovely; blonde hair, those green eyes that could keep a man guessing for days, wonderfully shaped legs, overall a very nicely put together woman. Any idiot could see these things – even a ghost. But these were physical attributes that you enjoyed, they shouldn't be the basis of love.

What was it about Carolyn Muir that he loved? That wasn't so hard – he loved so many things about her. He loved the way her voice faltered when she tried to think fast to cover up something he had done. He loved the look on her face when she was so tied up in her work she was in her own world. He loved watching her with Candy and Jonathan, seeing the pride and mother love that shone on her face, even when scolding them. He loved the way she smiled when something made her happy and he loved the way her eyes would cloud up when she felt sad. He loved the way she defied him, and the way she admired him. He loved the smell of her perfume as it lingered in each room, and her habit of leaving her shoes in strange places. He loved to watch her flip her hair back behind her ears and he loved the way her brow furrowed when she was deep in thought. He even loved the fact that she drank enough coffee to keep the coffee growers in business just by her consumption alone.

All those little things he had learned to live with were the things that made him love her. Yes, he loved her. And not because she was beautiful or alluring or desirable or because she was unapproachable. He loved her for who she was and what she had done for him. And that was to bring so much joy into his life that he never thought he could have.

Daniel Gregg sighed happily at this thought, glad he had sorted out his feelings. But they still had the problem before them. He had technically lied to her even though he had never said_ 'I have no ability of touch.' _Leaning against the rail, he had let his mind fly out to the horizon and back looking for the answer and when it came back it hit him in the face almost knocking him down. He would have to _apologize! _But surely there was another way. There just _had_ to be. He never apologized about _anything_ to _anyone_, not even when he was a boy. Apologizing was not in his character. It was not who he was. But that was the answer, this was what he must do.

And now with her standing before him, telling him she was sorry, he couldn't make his voice say the words. He stared at her, wondering what he should do, and knowing what he had to do. Finally he held up his hands in a sign of resignation.

"Carolyn." He loved the way that sounded. "Carolyn, I've been thinking about some things and I, well, I wanted to say . . ." He ran his hand up and down his beard, stroking it nervously. Trying to readjust his stance, he relaxed his legs only to find his back stiffening. "I just wanted to say that I was . . . I was well . . . wrong about what I did and I hope you can forgive me."

He said it quickly, afraid it wouldn't come out if he didn't.

"Oh, Captain," she breathed, her eyes glistening with tears. Walking over to him, she gazed up in his eyes and smiled. The smile seemed to go down into his soul and comfort him.

Hesitantly, she took his hand in hers and kissed his palm. For a moment they said nothing just stood there with their hands joined, enjoying the moment.

"I love you," he whispered. "I know I have no right to, but I do, and I just thought that you should know."

Her eyes were shining like stars and the look on her face was complete peace. "I love you too," she said shyly.

He held her close against him, and she buried her head in his chest thrilling in the fact of being able to. How many times had she dreamed of doing such a simple thing? Suddenly she felt an uncontrollable desire to giggle.

"What is so funny?" he said, in her hair.

When she continued giggling, he held her out at arms' length, never letting go, and with his most fierce look demanded to know:

"What is so funny, you blasted woman?"

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" she answered him. "We just said it, but for some reason we could just never say it before."

"Maybe that's because we removed all the weights that made the words sink to the bottom and now the words are a little more free. But it's still going to be rough seas, my dear."

"Then we must not abandon ship!"

Being held in his arms like this, his nearness driving her senseless, she suddenly had the most incredible feeling of contentment. For the first time in her life, she was completely happy and content. Drawing back for a moment, she saw the same look in his eyes. Would this relationship really work? Did they really have a chance? The odds against them were not good. Surely if they were meant to be together, it would work out.

As his hands gently rubbed her shoulders, she let the questions in her mind fall through the crevices. She was so tired of thinking rationally. She just wanted to relax in his love. Funny, she had never thought of 'relax' and 'love' in the same sentence before. She had had to be so alert when it came to love and now she could just enjoy it, knowing it was for her.

His lips were now tracing her jaw-line with soft kisses. How long had it been since she had felt this way? No, she had never felt _this_ way, not even in her wildest dreams.

"Captain . . ." she managed to say, but the way she said it was like she had said 'Daniel.' "Can I make one simple request?"

"What is it?" he asked, with a look that said he would grant her the world if he could manage it.

"I want to dance with you."

He looked amused and surprised, but nodded.

"I know we're not exactly dressed for it," she remarked, looking down at her white sweatshirt and faded black pants. "But if you would indulge me?"

Silently, he let her lead him down the stairs and out onto the front lawn. Ever since she had that incredible dream about waltzing with the Captain, she had not been able to shake it from her mind. Night after night, she would replay it in her mind, desperately trying to finish that dream, trying to get to the kiss that never happened. This time she wouldn't be dressed in an exquisite gown or he in his dress uniform, but this time it would be real.

Captain Gregg wasn't sure what had possessed her, but he was more than willing to go along with whatever she wanted. Watching her stand beside him, he thought again that she was the loveliest woman he had ever had the privilege of being with. Sensing the excitement building up in her, he took her hand and kissed it.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

Carolyn nodded, unable to make a verbal answer. As he placed one hand on her waist and grasped her hand with his other, she felt her pulse quicken. Slowly they began dancing in the silent night around them but Carolyn swore she could hear music. Staring deeply into his eyes, she was sure he heard it as well.

As they glided across the lawn in perfect time, she thought about the decisions they had made today. They would not be easy to follow through with, but somehow she knew everything would be all right. They were meant to be with each other regardless of the huge obstacles and they would meet them head on – together.

"What's brought such a lovely smile to your face, my darling?" he inquired in a hushed tone.

"It's our Anniversary Waltz," she answered. "I thought today was marking the end of what could have been, but it's the anniversary of the beginning of what will be. This is our waltz."

And then the waltz ended the way she had tried to imagine it for so long. It ended with a kiss.

The End


End file.
